Same Time, Next Year

by Debbie Macomber

  “If you truly believe that, then why did you throw in the towel?”

  “I haven’t,” he told her. “I took a few days to think about it and decide who I’ll ask to manage the rest of my campaign. It seems there are several people who want the job.”

  “But Southworth said he could sway the election for you…. He claims to have political clout.”

  “He seems to think he does,” James said tightly.

  “We made a deal,” she whispered, lowering her gaze.

  “What kind of deal?”

  “Southworth agreed to manage your campaign if I left Seattle until after the election.”

  James snickered. “It’s unfortunate you didn’t check with me first.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want Southworth anywhere near my campaign.”

  Summer bristled. “You might’ve said that earlier.”

  “True,” James admitted slowly. “But I wanted everything squared away before I announced that I’d changed campaign managers.”

  “So, who did you choose? Who’s your new manager?”

  “Eric Manning. He’s not only an old friend, he was a successful businessman and he’s very well connected.” He shook his head. “I should’ve asked him in the first place.”

  “James, that’s wonderful! I like him so much better than Ralph.”

  James reached for her hands and held them in his own. “What you don’t understand is that I wouldn’t have taken Southworth back under any circumstances. First of all, I won’t allow any man to talk about my wife the way he did. It’s true I made some mistakes when we first got married. I blame myself for not publishing our wedding announcement immediately. Frankly, I didn’t think of it.”

  “I didn’t, either. And remember, we were talking about an April ceremony back then.” Summer wasn’t willing to have him accept all the blame.

  “You’re my wife, and I couldn’t be prouder that someone as beautiful and talented as you would choose to marry me. Ralph made it sound as if we should keep you under wraps until after the election, which is utterly ridiculous. I’m angry with myself for not taking a stand sooner.”

  “What about the election?” She didn’t care to hear any more about Southworth.

  “I’ll get to that in a minute. When Southworth said he questioned my judgment, I realized what a fool I’d been to listen to the man for even a minute.”

  “But—”

  “Let me finish, sweetheart. The best thing I ever did in my life was marry you.”

  “It was impulsive and—”

  “Smart,” he said, cutting her off. “I don’t need Southworth to win this campaign for me. He had me convinced I did, but I know otherwise now.”

  “What about his political friends?”

  “That’s a laugh. A man as narrow-minded and self-righteous as Ralph Southworth can’t afford the luxury of friends. He has none, but he doesn’t seem to know it. If he hadn’t decided to leave my campaign, I would’ve asked him to resign.”

  It was a good thing Summer was sitting down. “You mean to say I went through all that grief and left you for nothing?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh.”

  James gathered her in his arms. “Summer, whatever I am, whatever I may become, I’m nothing without you.”

  Summer sobbed into his shoulder.

  “Winning the election would be an empty victory if you weren’t standing at my side. I want you to share that moment with me. I love you, Summer, and I love our babies, too.”

  “Oh, James, I’ve been so unhappy. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Don’t ever leave me again. It was like I’d lost my mind, my heart—everything—until I saw you standing at the end of that pier.”

  Summer tightened her arms around him.

  Walter tapped on the door. “Can I come in yet?”

  “No,” James growled.

  “So have you two settled your differences?”

  “We’re working on it,” Summer called out.

  “Then I’ll leave you to your reunion.”

  “Good night, Dad,” James said in what was an obvious hint for his father to leave.

  “’Night, kids. Kiss and make up, okay?”

  “We’re going to do a lot more than kiss,” James whispered in her ear.

  “Promises, promises, promises,” she murmured.

  “You can bet I’ll make good on these.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “This is my wife, Summer,” James said, his arm around her thick waist. Although she was only six months pregnant, she looked closer to nine.

  “I’m so pleased to meet you,” the older woman said.

  “Who was that again?” she whispered to James.

  “Emily Rohrbaugh, president of the League of Women Voters.”

  “Oh. I don’t know how you remember all these names. I’m impressed.”

  “I’m more impressed that you can remember all your lines in Beauty and the Beast,” he said. “But here’s my little trick for recalling names. I try to tie them in with something else,” James told her. “Some kind of object or action.”

  “Rohrbaugh is something of a challenge, don’t you think?” Summer raised her eyebrows.

  “Roar and baa,” he said under his breath. “Think of a lion and a lamb. A lion roars and a lamb goes baa. Rohrbaugh.”

  Summer’s face lit up with a bright smile. “No wonder I married you. You’re brilliant.”

  “I bet you won’t have a problem remembering Emily the next time you meet.”

  “I won’t.”

  “She’s a good friend of Elizabeth Manning’s,” James said, feeding his wife a seedless grape. It was a test of his restraint not to kiss her afterward. One would assume his desire for her would fade after all these months; if anything, quite the opposite had occurred. She was never more beautiful to him than now, heavy with their children.

  “Elizabeth Manning?” Summer repeated. “I didn’t think she’d be the political type.”

  “She isn’t,” James said. They mingled with the crowd gathered on the patio of an influential member of the state senate. “But the two of them have been friends since high school.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you need to sit for a while?”

  “James,” she groaned. “Stop worrying about me.”

  He glanced down at her abdomen. “How are Mutt and Jeff?”

  She circled her belly with both hands. “I swear these two are going to be world-class soccer players.”

  James chuckled, reaching for an hors d’oeuvre from one of the several platters set around the sunny patio. He gave it to Summer.

  “James, I don’t believe I’ve met your wife.”

  James recognized the voice—William Carr, the president of the Bar Association. He quickly made the introductions. He never worried about Summer saying the wrong thing or inadvertently embarrassing him. She had a natural way about her that instantly put people at ease. She was charming and open and genuine. These political functions weren’t her idea of a good time, but she never complained. She seemed eager to do whatever she could to aid his campaign and had proved to be the asset he knew she would be.

  “I’m very pleased to meet you,” she said warmly as they exchanged handshakes.

  The obvious topic of conversation was Summer’s pregnancy, which they discussed but only briefly. She managed to deftly turn the conversation away from herself, and soon Carr was talking about himself, laughing over the early days when his wife was pregnant with their oldest child.

  After ten minutes or so, Summer excused herself.

  “She’s an excellent conversationalist,” William Carr commented as she walked away.

  James did his best to hide a smile. It amused him that Carr could do most of the talking and then act as if Summer had been the one carrying the discussion.

  “It seems strange to think of you as married,” the attorney said next.

  “When I’m with Summer, I w
onder why I ever waited so long.”

  Carr shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “If I’d given you advice before you were appointed to the court, it would’ve been to marry.”

  “Really?” This came as a shock to James.

  “You’re a fine young man, and I expect great things from you. Just between you, me and the fence post, I think you’re doing an excellent job.”

  “I hope so,” James said, but there were some who weren’t as confident as William Carr. Generally those under the influence of Ralph Southworth. To James’s surprise, Southworth had managed to prejudice several supporters against him.

  “You remind me of myself thirty years back,” Carr told him.

  James considered this high praise. “Thank you.”

  “But you needed a little softening around the edges. You came off as strong and unbending. Not a bad thing for a judge, mind you, but being a little more human wouldn’t have hurt.”

  “I see.” James didn’t like hearing this but knew it was for his own good, however uncomfortable it might be.

  “It’s easy to sit in judgment of others when you live in an ivory tower.”

  James frowned uncertainly. “I don’t understand.”

  “Until you married Summer, your life was a bit…sterile. Protected. If you don’t mind my saying so…A married man knows how to compromise. I imagine you’ve done things to make your wife happy that you wouldn’t normally do.”

  He nodded.

  “In my opinion, marriage matures a man. It helps him sympathize and identify with his fellow humans.”

  “Are you trying to tell me I was a stodgy stuffed shirt before I married Summer?” James asked outright.

  William Carr seemed taken aback by his directness, then grinned. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  “That’s what I thought.” James reached for a tiny crab puff.

  “By the way, I wanted to congratulate you on a job well done. That multiple homicide was your first murder trial, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” To be honest, he was happy it was over. The ordeal had proved to be exhausting for everyone involved. The jury had found the young man guilty, and after careful deliberation, James had pronounced the sentence.

  His name and face had appeared on television screens every night for weeks. It went without saying that a lot of people were watching and waiting to see how he’d rule. Liberals were looking for leniency, and hard-liners wanted the death penalty. James had agonized over the sentence.

  There were more victims than the ones who were shot during those hours of madness. Three families had lost loved ones. Seventeen others would always carry the mark of a madman’s gun. Innocent lives had been forever changed.

  James had delivered a sentence he felt was fair. He didn’t try to satisfy any political factions, although the outcome of the election could well rest on his judgment. He’d sentenced the killer to life without the possibility of parole, with mandatory psychiatric treatment.

  It would’ve been impossible to keep everyone happy, so his decision had been based on what he considered equitable for all concerned. Some were pleased, he knew, and others were outraged.

  “Thank you,” James said, “I appreciate your vote of confidence.”

  “The decisions won’t get any easier,” William Carr told him. The older man grabbed a stuffed green olive and popped it in his mouth.

  “The bar will be taking their opinion poll about the time your wife’s due to have those babies of yours.”

  James knew that whether or not the results were published was at the discretion of the bar. The vote could sway the November election.

  Summer returned just then, looking tired. Despite her smile, William Carr seemed to realize this. He wished them his best and drifted away.

  “Are you ready to leave?” James asked.

  “No,” she protested. “We’ve barely arrived.”

  “We’re going.” His mistake was in asking her; he should’ve known to expect an argument.

  He made their excuses, thanked the host and hostess and urged Summer toward their parked car. Her progress was slow, and he knew she was uncomfortable, especially in the heat.

  “Charlotte’s due in two weeks,” she said when he helped her inside. She sighed as she eased into the seat. The seat belt barely stretched all the way around her.

  James paused. “What’s that comment about Charlotte about?”

  “I envy her. Look at me, James!”

  “I am looking at you,” he said, and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she muttered.

  “You’d better, because it wouldn’t take much to convince me to prove it right here and now.”

  “James, honestly.”

  “I am being honest.”

  She smiled, and he couldn’t resist kissing her a second time.

  After they got home, Summer sat outside in the sunshine. She propped her feet on a stool, and her hands rested on her stomach.

  James brought her a glass of iced tea.

  She smiled her appreciation. “You spoil me.”

  “That’s because I enjoy it.” He sat down next to her. “I don’t suppose you’ve thought about packing up and leaving me lately?”

  Summer giggled. “Once or twice, but by the time I finished dragging out my suitcases, I was too tired to go.”

  “You’re teasing.”

  “Of course I’m teasing.”

  “Speaking of suitcases, do you have one ready for the hospital?”

  “Aren’t we being a little premature?”

  “Who knows what Mutt and Jeff are thinking.” James’s hand joined hers. It thrilled him to feel his children move inside her. “And this time you might want to take more than your toothbrush, a book and your bedroom slippers.”

  “That goes to show you the mental state I was in.”

  “Never again,” James said firmly.

  Summer propped her head against his shoulder and sighed. “Never again,” she agreed.

  * * *

  The day of the September primary, Summer woke feeling sluggish and out of sorts. Getting out of bed was a task of monumental proportions. She felt as if she needed a forklift.

  James was already up and shaved. He’d been watching her carefully all week. To everyone’s surprise, including her doctor’s, Summer hadn’t delivered the twins yet. She’d read that twins were often born early. But not Mutt and Jeff, as they’d been affectionately named by James.

  “Most babies aren’t born on their due dates, so stop looking so worried. This is your day.” She sat on the edge of the bed and pressed her hand to the small of her back.

  James offered her his arm to help her upright. “How do you feel?”

  “I don’t know yet.” The pain at the base of her spine had kept her awake most of the night. It didn’t seem to go away, no matter how often she changed her position.

  “When are we voting?” she asked.

  “First thing this morning,” James told her.

  “Good.”

  “Why is that good?” he asked anxiously. “Do you think today’s the day?”

  “James, stop! I’m in perfect health.”

  “For someone nine months pregnant with twins, you mean.”

  Summer swore that somehow, God willing, she’d make it through this day. James was so tender and endearing, but she didn’t want him worrying about her during the primary.

  They gathered, together with Walter, at the large Manning home for the election results that evening. Summer was pleased for the opportunity to be with her friends.

  Jason and Charlotte, along with their toddler and infant daughter, Ann Marie, were among the first to arrive. Many of the friends who’d worked so hard on James’s campaign showed up soon after, shortly before the first election results were announced.

  Summer planted herself in a chair in the family room and didn’t move for an hour. The ache in he
r back had intensified.

  Feeling the need to move about, she made her way into the kitchen. She was standing in front of the sink when it happened. Her eyes widened as she felt a sharp, stabbing pain.

  “James,” she cried in panic, gripping the counter. Water gushed from between her legs and onto the floor. “Oh, my goodness.”

  “Summer?” James stood in the doorway, along with at least ten others, including Elizabeth Manning.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking at James. “But I think it might be time to take me to the hospital.”

  She saw her husband turn and stare longingly at the election results being flashed across the screen. “Now?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “James…I’m sorry.” The pain that had been concentrated in the small of her back had worked its way around her middle. Summer held her stomach and closed her eyes, surprised by the intensity of it.

  “Sorry,” James demanded, “for what?” He moved quickly and placed his arm around her shoulders.

  “You’d better get her to the hospital,” Elizabeth advised.

  “I’ll phone the doctor for you,” Eric added.

  James shouted out the number he’d memorized, and five or six Mannings chanted it until Eric found a pad and pen to write it down.

  Summer felt as if everyone wanted to play a role in the birth of their twins.

  “Toss me the car keys, and I’ll get the car as close to the front door as I can,” Jason Manning shouted.

  James threw him the keys, and Jason hurried out the front door.

  “What about the election returns?” Summer asked, gazing at the television.

  “I’ll get them later,” James said as if it meant nothing.

  “I’ll leave messages on your cell phone,” Charlotte volunteered, “and James can call us when he has an update on Summer and the babies.”

  Summer bit her lip at the approach of another contraction. It hurt, really hurt. “James.” She squeezed his hand, needing him.

  “I’m here, sweetheart. I won’t leave you, not for anything.”

  Jason reappeared, and the small entourage headed for James’s car. It was parked on the grass, close to the front door, the engine running.